


My Little Disaster

by Petits Pois (letsgogetlost)



Series: Amerihawk Week 2018 [3]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, AmeriHawk, Amerihawk Week 2018, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Chronically Ill Steve Rogers, Deaf Clint Barton, HoH Steve Rogers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, everyone is bad at self-care, except maybe Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 22:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16251254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsgogetlost/pseuds/Petits%20Pois
Summary: Steve is the one who taught Clint about self-care, but he's not great at it himself. And Clint's way too in love with him to let him keep running himself into the ground.





	My Little Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> Amerihawk Week 2018, Theme 3: Pain ~~or Pleasure~~
> 
> Title is from the Rhett Miller song "My Little Disaster", which came on shuffle right as I was thinking 'dangit, I need a title'. Thanks, Rhett.
> 
>  
> 
> Signing in ASL is indicated by single quotation marks and italics - _'Like this.'_ I did not attempt to replicate signed grammar/syntax.
> 
>  
> 
> Also I only managed to finish writing this at 11pm on the day, so there are probably mistakes - apologies, I wanted to get it up before traveling all day tomorrow.

The thing about Steve Rogers was that he didn't know when to stop. Literally. When he looked up from his computer that night, he blinked owlishly at the window for a moment like he was shocked the sun had gone down. It had, in fact, already been down for several hours.

Clint tapped on the top of his monitor again, which had been what distracted Steve in the first place, and Steve focused on him where he stood at the side of Steve's desk.

_'Are you planning to take a break before you burn out?'_

Steve frowned up at him. _'What?'_

_'Are you going to take a break. You look exhausted.'_

_'I'm fine.'_

_'Are you? Are you really?'_

Steve frowned deeper and glanced back at his screen. Clint tapped again, and he looked up again.

_'I'm not trying to be a dick. Just returning a favor.'_

Steve was still frowning, but it was a different kind of frown - softer, and curious, or confused. _'What?'_

 _'Remember when you had to teach me self-care?'_ Steve should, it had only been a little over a year before, and it had been a whole big thing. Bordering on an intervention. _'What was it you said… 'If you want to help other people, you have to take of yourself first. You're no good to anyone else if you're burned out, or sick, or hurting.''_ The last two bits had been additions, but he'd gotten the rest exactly correct. He knew he had, because he had it written in the front of a notebook in his desk.

Steve had visibly softened, even smiling a little as Clint signed his words back at him. Clint was usually pretty reserved, but when he was with his friends, his natural ability for observation and ironic sense of humor would crop up. He was particularly good at mimicking others' signing, taking on their whole personas when he quoted them in stories, or in moments like this. Parroting words back to others to make his own point.

Steve tapped his fingers on the table, then let out a big sigh. _'Damn you.'_

Clint shrugged, his lips quirking in a small, victorious smile. _'I learned from the best. I'm headed home, I'll walk with you.'_

_'You don't have to.'_

_'It's literally on my way. Come on. Let's go. You skipped lunch and it's late and we're all exhausted after this week. It can wait until Monday.'_

Steve raised his hands to argue, proving that he hadn't actually been convinced yet. Clint raised a hand and shook his head.

_'No. You and I both know what's coming. Getting some rest now is better than not being able to get out of bed in a couple of days. Isn't it?'_

_'How do you even -'_

_'I work with you every day! Come on. You were limping earlier. You need to go home.'_

_'I was?'_

Clint let out a loud, surprised laugh. _'Fuck! Yes.'_

Steve shut his eyes briefly, then nodded. _'Okay. Okay. But if anyone needs me…'_

_'One: Everyone already went home, we're the last ones here. Two: Everyone has your number, you know that, and they know they can contact you whenever because you never stop working. Come on. I'm hungry and my dog needs to go out and I'm walking you home first.'_

_'Fine. Fine.'_ Steve set his computer to shut down and stood up - not without a wince. Clint tried not to hover. He knew Steve had no tolerance for that, and Clint didn't like it when people did it to him, either. It was one of the reasons it had taken Clint so long to put his foot down about Steve working himself into the ground.

 

Clint had met Steve two years before, when Steve had hired him to work at the disability advocacy nonprofit he'd founded with his friend Peggy. Clint had been several years out of Gallaudet, volunteering for Deaf and disability and LGBTQ+ causes whenever he could, but also stuck in dead-end, shitty jobs and always teetering on the brink of disaster, often not able to make rent or even afford to eat. Steve had heard about his volunteering from someone and gotten in touch to ask him to interview for a job, and the gratitude Clint felt towards Steve for that was still so strong that he sometimes found it a little overwhelming.

It didn't help that Clint had fallen in love with Steve, too. It wasn't from the gratitude - there had been a rush of something like a crush from that, but he'd been able to quell it. He'd been in a bad place, but not so bad that he hadn't understood that wave of initial feeling was misplaced and unprofessional. No, this feeling had sprung up much later - after the hiring, and after the ages Steve had spent making sure Clint learned the ropes and got the accommodations and training he needed, and after the crash course in self-care that had come after Clint totally burned out towards the end of his first year at the organization. It was still fairly new, a thing that had grown up in him in the last six months, as he and Steve got to be better friends and Clint realized that Steve Rogers, non-profit founder, activist, and stubborn, principled, relentless advocate for public good, was also a complete disaster human.

Once he realized that, he was a goner. Totally, helplessly in love, and totally, helplessly filled with the need to make sure Steve actually took care of himself, too. But it had taken him until this chilly late fall night to actually act on the second impulse. He had no intentions to act on the first. They'd worked together for two years; he'd have known if Steve was into him. And besides, Steve could do so much better.

 

The walk to Steve's was slow. Now that he was up and moving he'd obviously taken note of how stiff his back had gotten, how much things were hurting. Clint knew he felt worse in the fall, anyway, when things were cold and damp, and his allergies made his asthma play up on top of it. But he was perfectly happy to just take his time beside Steve, carrying both their bags. He'd taken Steve's as soon as they were out the office door, and had refused to look at Steve so he couldn't complain, and had to just laugh instead.

Outside Steve's building, they hesitated. _'I'll see you up,'_ Clint declared, making Steve frown.

_'No.'_

_'Yes.'_ He looked Steve up and down; he didn't look like he'd make it up the stairs in one piece, especially if Clint had to hand his backpack to him.

Steve sighed and shrugged, and let them both in, then stopped at the foot of the stairs, and took a shaky breath. He was bottoming out, and they both knew it. 

Clint touched his shoulder, gently. Now that Steve's stubbornness was wearing off Clint was letting his slip, too, and he was more gentle when he asked _'May I help?'_

He finally got a positive response, a small nod, so he slung an arm around Steve's back to hold some of his weight, and they went up together. Luckily, Steve only lived on the second floor. When they got inside the apartment, Steve leaned on the wall by the door, head tipped back, and Clint looked around, then considered him, head cocked. He touched his elbow, and Steve looked at him.

_'Bucky's out of town, right?'_

Steve nodded. _'He gets home tomorrow.'_

_'Okay. Go lie down.'_

_'What?'_

_'Go lie down. In bed, preferably, but the couch is also good.'_

_'I can't, I need to eat, take my meds…'_

_'Bed. I'll take care of the rest.'_

_'What - no. You don't need to.'_

_'I know. But I want to.'_ Steve raised his hands to protest again, and Clint waved him aside. _'You've done so much for me. Self-care. Making me go to therapy. Helping when I have panic attacks. And as Tasha reminds me: 'Learn to accept help when it's offered'._

_'I knew teaching you self-care was going to bite me in the ass,'_ Steve replied, but he pushed off the wall.

Clint laughed and offered an arm, and Steve let him take some of his weight. He deposited Steve on his bed in his tiny bedroom a minute later. _'Text me your meds, I won't keep them straight otherwise. What do you feel like eating?'_

_'Something bland.'_

Clint grinned. _'I can do that.'_ It was about all he could do, he was not known for his cooking prowess. He dug through Steve and Bucky's fridge and cabinets and came back several minutes later with a tray loaded with rice, pre-cooked grilled chicken strips (bless convenience food), applesauce, and a big glass of water and a collection of orange prescription bottles. Steve had taken the time he was away to change into PJs, and was lying on his back on the bed, looking more pale than before.

Clint set down the tray and sat down beside Steve; Steve turned and looked at him. _'You okay? No asthma?'_

 _'No asthma.'_ He sat up and looked at the tray. _'This looks good, thanks.'_

_'No problem.'_

Steve propped himself against the headboard and started eating. Clint sat at the foot of the bed, looking at his phone, then reached out and touched Steve's leg. _'Do you want me to stay?'_

_'You don't have to.'_

_'Not what I asked. Do you **want** me to? Or do you want to be on your own - I can go.'_

_'What about Lucky?'_

Clint chuckled. _'Kate's taking care of him.'_

_'You need to eat.'_

_'I made a lot of food, so you'd have leftovers.'_

Steve smiled at him. _'Then go get some.'_

Clint smiled back and disappeared, coming back with a bowl of food a minute later. They ate slowly, in easy quiet companionship, and when they were both done Steve shifted and pulled out his laptop. _'Want to watch something? Distract me?'_

Clint hummed in approval. _'You pick.'_ He carried their dishes to the kitchen and when he came back, Steve had an episode of Parks  & Rec ready to go. Clint settled beside him, and Steve snuggled down in his blankets with a sigh before pressing play.

Sometime in the second episode, Steve started shifting around - obviously uncomfortable. Clint touched his shoulder, and was a little surprised when Steve pressed into the touch and looked up at him. _'You okay?'_ Clint asked.

_'Back hurts.'_

_'Can I do anything?'_

Steve shook his head, but shifted closer. Clint left his hand on his shoulder, then started rubbed it gently across the base of Steve's neck. Steve seemed to like that, sighing softly and staying where he was.

Sometime in the third episode, Steve moved again, pressing his head under Clint's hand. Clint chuckled and started stroking his head, fingers carding through his soft, slightly sweaty hair. Steve obviously still didn't feel good, but he'd settled, and he didn't look as pale as he had before.

Sometime in the forth episode, Steve fell asleep. He'd already taken out the hearing aid from his bad ear, and Clint checked to make sure the show was on mute so it wouldn't wake him, then went back to watching, fingers still running through his hair.

 

Steve woke sometime in the middle of the night. His laptop was still in the middle of the bed, with the 'Are you still watching?' shame message on the screen. And Clint was still there, too, half sitting up, head lolling back on the headboard, totally asleep.

Steve sat up carefully, back protesting, and put his laptop away. Clint shifted, but didn't wake up. Steve nudged him, and when he blinked awake, or half-awake, maybe, Steve reached out and touched beside one of his ears. Clint slid out his hearing aids, dropping them into Steve's open hand. When Steve looked back from putting them on the beside table, Clint was already blinking slow, on the edge of dropping off again. Steve tugged on him, urging him down, and Clint understood that, too, and laid down, snuggling in among Steve's collection of pillows. Steve pressed a blanket to his chest, and he pulled it over himself, and his eyes closed.

Steve switched off the light, but lay awake for a little while, feeling Clint breathe beside him, and thinking about how weird this was, but how much he liked it.

 

Steve woke up again several hours later to the sound of a throat being cleared. He opened his eyes and found that Clint was still asleep beside him, all curled up, face relaxed and peaceful. Someone cleared their throat again, and Steve looked over to the door, then laughed, very softly, trying not to wake Clint, and gave his roommate a lazy wave.

Bucky waved back. "When did that happen?"

"Last night."

"Finally."

Steve laughed again, and Clint shifted. Steve waved Bucky away, and Bucky laughed, and did as he was told.

Clint opened his eyes a minute later, stretching and yawning before smiling at Steve and signing a sleepy, one-handed _'Good morning.'_

_'Good morning.'_

_'How do you feel?'_

_'Better. Not great, but better.'_

_'Good.'_

_'Thanks for staying.'_

_'Yeah, of course.'_ Clint sat up and yawned, then paused, sniffing the air. _'Is that coffee?'_

Steve shrugged. He didn't have a great sense of smell. _'Probably?'_

 _'Bucky's back?'_

_'Yeah.'_

Clint nodded, eyes sliding away from Steve's for a moment. He took a deep breath and tugged on the collar of his shirt. He'd slept in his clothes, Steve realized, and felt bad about it. He hadn't been up to being a good host the night before.

 _'You going to work today?'_ Clint asked, when he looked back at Steve.

_'It's Saturday.'_

Clint laughed, breaking through the guarded expression that had taken over. _'You work a lot of Saturdays.'_

 _'Not today.'_

_'Good.'_

_'Do you want breakfast?'_

Clint blinked, looking genuinely surprised. _'Yeah? I guess? I can get out of your hair.'_

Steve sat up, frowning. _'No. No. I want you here, if you want to be here.'_

 _'But Bucky's home now.'_

Steve made a frustrated noise, and Clint frowned. _'I didn't just want you here because he was gone. I wanted you here because it's you. And you offered and I… wanted you here.'_

_'I don't understand.'_

_'I like you! I have for ages!'_

_'Really? Really - like-like?'_

Steve nodded. _'Is that okay? You don't have to - I'm your boss, I shouldn't -'_

_'No! It's okay. Very okay. Good. I like you, too.'_

Steve smiled, and reached out to brush Clint's hair off his forehead, which he'd been wanting to do ever since they woke up. Clint smiled, and leaned into the touch, and then leaned closer to kiss him.

 

When they emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, Bucky was in the kitchen, covered in flour. He put down the spoon he'd been wielding in valiant battle with the stand mixer, and grinned at both of them. _'I'm making waffles!'_ he declared. _'Celebration waffles!'_

_'Celebration?'_ Clint looked from Bucky to Steve. Steve shrugged.

 _'You two finally got your heads out of your asses. Celebration. Clint, there's coffee. Steve, do you want tea?'_

Within five minutes, Clint had been recruited as Bucky's extra hands and Steve was settled at the kitchen table, sipping his tea and watching Clint try to drink his coffee in between rounds of going along quite happily with Bucky bossing him around. Bucky, meanwhile, was only getting more flour on himself by the minute, his hair verging on full powdered-wig territory as he accepted Clint into the fold the best way he knew how - by being somehow terrifying and hilarious in the same moment. Eventually, and after only one minor fire, they had waffles, and then, throughly exhausted by the whole experience, they all went back to bed, Bucky to sleep off his redeye flight and Steve and Clint to binge another season of Parks & Rec, Clint curling against Steve's chest on the bed, Steve's fingers in his hair, now, and the streaming service only occasionally sassing them about how they were choosing to spend their day.


End file.
